Virals is a section in which one person choses a haiku by another person and comments on that haiku. Then the author of that haiku is invited to select a haiku by someone else and comment on that poem, and so on. For an introduction to this section, see Virals.
Viral 5.5
The Light in the Darkness
by Ruth Yarrow
toll booth lit for Christmas—
from my hand to hers
warm change
— Michael Dylan Welch
I find this poem full of contrasts and of hope. The contrasts include the lighted booth in the early dark of a December evening, the coins warmed by his hand reaching out into cold Christmas weather, and the warmth of the connection in what is a very impersonal fleeting monetary exchange. The hope I feel in this poem comes from the light in the darkness, the hope of the season, the reach across what may be class and race as well as gender lines, including the smile and thanks I assume are there. And that last line has so many reverberations. We are all humans, giving us the potential to connect with warmth. We have the potential to change the global messes we are in if we make those connections. I admit this is laying a lot on a short poem—maybe far too much. But the feelings of connection, warmth and hope are all in that moment, and after all, emotions are what makes any poem poetry. Thanks, Michael.
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“toll booth” was first published in Frogpond XVIII: 4
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As featured poet, Michael Dylan Welch will select a poem
and provide commentary on it for Viral 5.6.
……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………
• Viral 5.1 (Metz ➾ Lyles)
• Viral 5.2 (Lyles ➾ Chang)
• Viral 5.3 (Chang ➾ Stevenson)
• Viral 5.4 (Stevenson ➾ Yarrow)
{ 41 comments }
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While I understand Peter’s reaction to sentimental poems (and how many doll, puppy, cats—especially cats!—haiku have we seen that are often little more than cute verses), I disagree that there aren’t discoveries to be made in this poem. While “warmth” tells a lot and leads to a warm Christmas-by-the fire feeling and notions of “reach across” and “connections” that Ruth notices in her writeup, an additional question this poem raises is: why is this noticed only at Christmas? Surely the poet has crossed this bridge at other times of the year—and probably thought nothing of the person taking the toll. Why do we only navigate these good-will-to-men/women feelings at Christmas? Or express love for our loved ones on Valentine’s day? I think there are more access points to this poem than meet the eye.
Interesting points both Peter and David make.
Along with feeling duty bound never to say a good word about a haiku again, I was particularly intrigued by Peter’s “I feel I am handled at every point”.
Could you expand on this, and does this include all writing, and not just poetry/haiku?
Alan
Dear Michael, it is so good to see you here and to see winter in your palm, but here in Australia all coins are warm, espcially at Christmas when it is O*$#^&^%* hot.
I may not be changed by this haiku, but I certainly was touched.
The tactile sensation was unmistakable…and place me firmly inside the haiku. I rather enjoy haiku that transports me to the scene of the movie…
David Giacalone has a good point.
This poem resonated with me the first time I read it, and it still does. Peter Yovu’s Turn to Earth together with books by Michael Dylan Welch, Ruth Yarrow, and other favorite poets occupy a special corner on my book shelf. Here is my poor translation of a popular Chinese saying: good words are often not sweet enough to the ear.
How about “friendship is a multi-faceted splendor?”
A haijin friend pointed me this evening to Peter’s Comment. I’ve always liked Michael’s poem and have never thought of it as particularly sentimental. On the surface, it seems that Peter is taking himself (and haiku) way too seriously, but I’d prefer to think that he is trying to spur controversy and discussion, with tongue firmly in cheek, as a send-up of some of the over-the-top analysis that can be found within the New Haiku Orthodoxy, and its too-cool poseurs and pedants.
The confusion/confounding of feeling or empathy with sentimentality is puzzling, as is the notion that sentiment has no place within high-quality haiku. Such a ban imposes artificial restrictions on the haiku genre that seem strange coming from people who seem to want to force the rest of us to accept virtually any handful of nonsense words as publishable haiku.
I’ve said it before: The kind of over-analysis found in Peter’s comment, and the apparent need to imbue haiku with such weight and importance, keep me from spending any time at this site. It surely turns off more readers to the haiku genre than it attracts or inspires.
With the respect which is due to Ruth Yarrow and Michael Dylan Welch, about both of whose work I have good things to say, and with respect also to what I consider the celebratory nature of these Virals, I must voice a different view of this poem. As sentiment, it works quite well. As a poem, and as a haiku, it fails. The sentiment overcomes any edge of artistry; the presence of warmth, and the energetic turn of the last line are not sufficient to elevate it. There is no sense of discovery here, of revelation. I feel I am handled at every point; feel more pushed than moved. I am not changed. That is asking a lot of a poem, but I feel we need to ask a lot of ourselves and of each other. “True friendship is opposition” said Blake. I hope what I say here will be seen in that spirit. That is the hand I wish to extend, the hand I hope others will extend to me.
Thanks for the kind words, Tom and Alan (and of course Ruth). This poem was inspired by stopping at the toll booth to cross the San Mateo Bridge. It’s one of seven major bridges in the San Francisco Bay Area. It’s not nearly as famous as the Golden Gate or Oakland Bay bridges, but it’s by far the longest. I was on the Hayward side, heading west to where I lived in Foster City. At the time, I think the toll was 75 cents, and while waiting for several cars ahead of me to pay the toll, I held three quarters in my hand. By the time I paid the toll, they were warm, and I became conscious of that warmth at the moment I gave the coins to the toll collector. My hand brushed her hand, and I felt that her hand was cold. We both smiled. As I drove away, I wondered if she had noticed the warmth in the change.
Actually, I originally wrestled with this poem, wondering if it would be better as “from her hand to mine.” I don’t feel one has to stick with the exact details of original experience (one is, after all, creating a poem, not a diary entry), but in this case I decided to stick with “from my hand to hers” although I’m not sure why (the rhythm is essentially the same either way). Other than that consideration, this was an easy poem to write. Thanks again for the kind words.
Michael
This is one of my favourite haiku.
toll booth lit for Christmas—
from my hand to hers
warm change
It shows the necessary discipline of word choice. If the poem had been written…
toll booth lit for Christmas—
warm change
from my hand to hers
… it still would have been good, very good, but that flip of lines has brought in so many more dimensions.
The key line is ‘warm change’ and it always had to be the last line.
Each line is superbly judged for maximum (but subtle) effect.
A screenplay could be written out of this.
toll booth lit for Christmas—
from my hand to hers
warm change
It just makes me feel good reading this, not just for the craft involved, but that it carries so much for me to enjoy and expand upon, and it’s so full of humanity without the need to lecture or go down the saccharine route.
Definitely a classic, but for all the right reasons.
Alan
a lovely poem! Notice how the gap lights up (no pun intended) the base; the gap is indeed itself dark AND light. For me, this is the genius of haiku. The equivocal nature of the exchange represented in the base is “doubled” by the plurivocal meaning of the single line; only for this “moment” at Christmas does this exchange include the supercharge, across the gap (well treated by Ruth) of this special moment. It’s not fantasy but the gift of the poem to think of THIS moment hyperbolically as a moment both in and out of time.
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